


For a Time

by often_adamanta



Series: Time Universe [1]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-05
Updated: 2007-03-05
Packaged: 2017-10-22 08:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/236102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/often_adamanta/pseuds/often_adamanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Beta'd by <span class="ljuser ljuser-name_violettefemme"><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/"><b>violettefemme</b></a></span></p>
    </blockquote>





	For a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/profile)[**violettefemme**](http://violettefemme.livejournal.com/)

Awareness, sharp and pleasurable, twisted down his spine as he danced. He dipped and swayed with the beat and basked in the gazes from those around him.

He loved to be watched. Eyes followed his movements like a caress as he displayed himself, wanton and intense. Sweat glistened on his pale skin and darkened his hair to black, and he moved carelessly under the weight of their desire.

He was wanted. He was free.

Eventually he tired of the game and abandoned the dance floor for the bar, gasping and grinning.

He didn’t have any money, but that never mattered. As soon as he paused, leaning against the worn wood, he was approached, brown eyes assessing him so intently that he shivered.

“Allow me,” the man said, voice low and lilting.

Elijah tilted his head as if considering, taking in beautifully calm face and the long, muscled frame, and nodded. “Vodka gimlet.”

The man smiled, a slow stretch of his thin lips, and turned to the bartender, who materialized instantly in spite of the other, waiting customers. “Two vodka gimlets,” he ordered.

The drinks appeared, and Elijah swallowed, the drink deliciously cold going down as he drained it. “I’m Elijah,” he said, setting the empty glass back down on the bar.

“My name is Orlando,” the man said, sensuous voice crossing the distance between them to sweep around the shell of his ear and sink inside. He closed his eyes and shivered again, memorizing that sinful voice. When he opened them, he had the second drink clasped in his hand, and Orlando was nowhere to be seen.

Elijah returned the next night.

He danced differently, this night, not to play, but to seduce. Tension strummed around him, swirled in the air as he gyrated, but he ignored it and waited.

It took an hour before he felt Orlando’s eyes, the intensity sending a tingle to run through his body. He moved in time with the sensations in his body, feeling his muscles tighten and release, anticipation a tight knot in stomach and groin, giving Orlando a show in return.

When the song faded, he made his way to Orlando’s small table, too impatient to pretend at coyness. Their legs brushed together as he sat, and he pushed into the contact. Orlando slid a vodka gimlet to him, eyes glittering in the low light.

Elijah smiled his thanks and took a sip.

“I like watching you dance,” Orlando threw out carelessly, watching Elijah lick the vodka from his red lips.

“I like you watching me,” Elijah replied, raising his eyebrows.

Orlando’s brown eyes paled to ice and snapped away, only to return as dark as before.

In the dizzy air of exertion and alcohol, Elijah blinked and decided it was a trick of the light. “I think I’d like you touching me even more,” he drawled, leaning forward and looking up at Orlando through black lashes.

Orlando licked his lips and tilted his head to consider Elijah and his offer. “Your place,” he agreed finally, in a tone that was pure sex and purred along Elijah’s skin.

Elijah stood and led the way, feeling Orlando’s eyes on him as he followed.

His apartment was small and comfortable and, most importantly, private. He kissed Orlando as the door slammed shut, surprised to taste no alcohol, and shared the lime flavor that coated his own mouth.

Orlando’s hands grasped his waist and, with unexpected strength, pulled him until their bodies aligned tightly, separated only by layers of clothing. Elijah whipped the tight, sleeveless shirt off before running his hands along Orlando’s torso, fingers digging into hard muscles, clutching to bring them closer.

Orlando growled low in his throat and turned them until he was walking Elijah backwards into bedroom, throwing him down on the bed. He stripped off his clothes until he stood naked and beautiful in the dim light coming from the window, pausing only to pull the remaining clothes from Elijah’s body before joining Elijah on the bed.

It was even better than dancing: Orlando still watched him, passionately, taking in Elijah’s uninhibited reaction to the weight pressing down on him, the lithe body rocking against his as he arched up, heat radiating from his body, pulse thrumming.

He pushed his legs apart, and the muscled burned slightly as they stretched. A finger shoved inside him, and the wicked chuckle Orlando made at finding him already prepared was almost enough to send him over the edge. As if sensing this, the finger slid out, and the hand wrapped around the base of his cock, tight, too tight, and Elijah writhed as his orgasm failed to slip past that iron grip.

Orlando entered him, then, and it was too much. Elijah stared up, dazed, into the face above him, and saw the brown eyes ice over into pale, pale blue, so cold that they burned. Somewhere, deep inside Elijah, in a tiny place not overwhelmed with the movement of Orlando inside him, he screamed and screamed in a pure, instinctive terror, only to have it drowned out by lust and shock and his echoing pulse.

Orlando smiled, white fangs revealing the predator within, dropped his head and sunk the sharp edges of his canines into Elijah’s throat at the same time he speared him deeper with his cock, penetrating Elijah in every way possible.

The sensations collided and multiplied until Elijah thought he would explode just from _feeling_. The suction on his neck, the rhythm of Orlando’s cock matching his heartbeat, his cock still in that too strong hold and rubbing against Orlando’s stomach as they moved together.

His pulse ticked up, faster still, until they were moving franticly, and Elijah had just enough time to draw in a ragged breath before Orlando released his cock. He came and came, hips arching so hard that his back muscles cramped, screaming once, sharply, before falling, fading into blackness…

He returned to the feeling of a tongue swiping gently over the twin puncture wounds on his neck, lapping up the last bit of blood mingled with sweat. He moaned softly, body sore and used and feeling so, so good, and Orlando pulled back to look at him, ice blue eyes bleeding back to brown as he watched.

Hand shaking, Elijah reached up and pushed his thumb against Orlando’s lips. Orlando bared his teeth, fangs still extended. He touched his thumb to one of the elongated canines and felt the sharp tip prick the skin, blood welling on the pad. Orlando’s tongue flicked out to clear it off. Elijah let his hand drop, disregarding the slight pain.

Orlando examined him, detached and wary, and pulled out, causing Elijah to groan lowly. He began to move away, but Elijah grabbed his wrist, thumb smearing blood across the thin skin. “Stay,” he requested.

Elijah thought he’d refuse, but after a moment, he stretched out beside Elijah. “For a time,” he agreed, and Elijah fell asleep before he could give into the panic hovering at the edges of consciousness.

Orlando left while he was asleep.

He woke alone with only his body as evidence of what had happened the night before. He showered, dressed in a turtleneck and made coffee while trying to think without freaking out, his hand returning to caress the tender wounds on his neck through the cotton again and again.

Elijah didn’t go to the club that night. He knew in his heart, in his blood, that Orlando would not be returning. Instead, he climbed out onto the fire escape and sat, calm and still, in the chill darkness. Several hours passed before he felt the tale-tell shiver caused by Orlando’s gaze.

“I knew you’d come back,” he spoke to the darkness.

Orlando unfolded himself from the shadows until he was crouched next to Elijah, barely visible in the glow from the streetlights. “I never have before,” he answered firmly. His face was impassive, but Elijah could see a tension there, an unfamiliar stress in that nonchalant pose. “Most people forget,” he continued, predator stealing into his voice and making Elijah’s pulse beat faster. “I make them forget.”

Elijah unfolded gracefully, moving closer. “I can’t stop thinking of you,” he whispered, a mixture of sincerity and confusion.

“You’re a fool not to fear me,” Orlando told him.

Elijah leaned in and pressed their lips together, tentatively. His eyes remained open, and he watched, up close, the transition from deep brown to icy blue, and his lip slit open as it brushed against a fang.

Lips painted red, he pulled back, and Orlando followed to lick the blood away.

He was afraid, in the turmoil beneath his calm exterior, but he was also excited and aroused and curious. He cupped Orlando’s cheek, his still tender thumb running along one high cheekbone. “Come inside,” he asked, refusing to let the fear rule him, refusing to give up this chance. “Stay.”

Orlando regarded him. “For a time,” he agreed, and leaned in to taste the blood on Elijah’s lips again.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at livejournal [here](http://often-adamanta.livejournal.com/169236.html).


End file.
